Chapter 2 The crack

Leaking data wasn't difficult.

The difficult thing was what that data said about you.

The difficult thing was living with you afterward.

Lucía knew that.

And yet, that night, in front of the dusty console on Level Beta, her eyes fixed on a blinking cursor and her hands steadier than she expected, she did it.

Send.

A tiny word, but with seismic consequences.

But behind that word wasn't just data:

There was a decision.

Classified File Note – Andrea Mendizábal

NCA Internal File – Restricted Access / Level Red

Risk Report Updated: 06.09 / Revision B.6

Name: Andrea Mendizábal

Original Rank: Transversal Operations Coordinator

Official Status: Dismissed. External Relocation. (No registration confirmed)

Actual (unofficial) Status: Deserter. Operational. Highly dangerous.

Andrea Mendizábal doesn't appear in NCA's public records. She was removed from the system three hours after disappearing. Her access to the strategic core was disabled, but not before she extracted fragments of confidential protocol, including audit keys and internal routes.

Few know how she managed to escape. No one has managed to find her.

Since then, the name Andrea has become synonymous with betrayal... but also with something more dangerous: freedom.

Those who still mention her-if they dare-speak of her as a shadow whispering from the margins, a specter exposing cracks in the system.

Some believe she's dead.

Others claim she leads a clandestine network dedicated to dismantling corporate control structures from within.

The truth is, no one forgets what she represents:

An agent who knew all the rules.

And chose to break them.

That's why, when Lucía Vega receives a response signed with a single letter, she needs no further confirmation.

"A."

Andrea is back.

And that means war is no longer a possibility.

It's a fact.

It all started weeks ago, with a name that emerged from silence: Andrea Mendizábal.

For most, she was a legend. For others, a threat. In the highest circles of NCA, Andrea was what shouldn't be named: a former agent who had not only defected, but had survived. She was still active. She was still operating. And, worse still... she hadn't stopped winning.

Lucía met her only once, although no one at the Corporation knew what happened. It was in Geneva, during a conference that was merely a facade for an inter-agency intelligence meeting. The two pretended not to see each other. But they did.

There was something in Andrea's eyes. Something that burned.

A conviction that was frightening.

And Lucía, who back then still believed in structure, in obedience, in this code of control disguised as order, stepped back.

She wasn't ready.

Now she was.

The secondary console was everything NCA despised: old, slow, imprecise. And for that very reason, it was perfect. No next-generation biometric readers. No infrared breath sensors. No pretense of knowing more than the user.

Lucía inserted the microdevice with a swift motion. It shouldn't look calculated. It shouldn't look like anything.

She had exactly four minutes before the system performed a micro-reading of input streams. She knew how to bypass that check. She'd learned it over years of poring over redundant supervisory codes and protocols.

The first capsule was small. Innocent, on the surface, a list of administrative transactions with no apparent relevance. But anyone who knew how to read it-who knew the cross-level data extraction routes-would understand what lay behind it.

Agent changes. Names eliminated. Reassignments.

The first signs of a silent purge.

The prelude to fear.

Lucia didn't breathe as the file compressed and camouflaged itself as a dead network update packet. It was like injecting poison into a dead vein, hoping someone on the other end would know how to revive it.

Phantom sender. Echo channel. Packet 01.

"Send," she whispered.

And the cursor blinked.

Once. Twice.

Then everything went blank.

She didn't cry. She didn't smile.

She just stood still.

Feeling something inside her... break. Or maybe, open.

For the next few minutes, she walked as if nothing had happened. She went up two levels. She stopped at the central cafeteria, ordered an unsweetened black tea. She sat at a table facing the east window, pretending to review a file. Around her, everything seemed normal.

And yet, she wasn't.

She had crossed the line.

Not in theory. Not as a thought.

She had done it. With her fingers. With her voice. With her fear.

And that wouldn't go away.

That night, in her sleep module, normality persisted. The dim lights, the hum of artificial ventilation, the firm, sterile mattress.

Everything familiar. Everything suffocating.

Until a light flickered.

Not on the screen. Not on the phone.

In the mirror frame. A soft, almost imperceptible pulse, a reddish hue.

Lucía stood up. She approached.

She slid her fingers along the edge of the frame until she felt the tiny, hidden electromagnetic pulse.

The answer was there.

Channel activated.

Packet received. Acknowledgment: Salinas Code-4.

Time: 10:17 PM.

Don't repeat the channel. Don't repeat the pattern.

Instructions soon.

Welcome to the other shore.

-A.

Lucía didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

There was a part of her that still expected the silence.

The emptiness.

The punishment is immediate.

But no.

Andrea had responded.

And the way she did left no doubt:

This was real.

The network was awake.

And it was looking at her.

She sank to the floor, her back against the metal wall. The room seemed even smaller. The air was thicker.

She hugged her knees, as she hadn't done since she was a child. As if that could stop the trembling in her chest.

She thought of Bruno.

In the way she looked without speaking.

In the tactless nights, but full of shared code.

She loved him. In some clumsy and nameless way, she loved him.

But now, their paths diverged.

Because Lucía no longer waited for the perfect moment to act.

She didn't trust in abstract plans or future revolutions.

The revolution had begun in her hands.

And maybe that distanced her from Bruno.

Maybe it brought him closer.

She didn't know.

The only thing that was clear was this:

Lucía Vega had leaked the first truth.

And she didn't do it out of courage.

Nor out of anger.

She did it because, for the first time in years, she felt she had something to lose.

And that... that changed everything.